


Sekora

by Sarcastic_Taurus



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Mythology
Genre: Ancient Greece, F/M, Infidelity, Slow Burn, The Titanomachy (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Time Travel, Underworld
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarcastic_Taurus/pseuds/Sarcastic_Taurus
Summary: When Sekora Midford, better known as Sera, lost her Grandfather, she felt completely alone, but on a trip to finish what he began, she finds that a chance encounter with the lost gods of old will means there's no way she's going to catch her flight back home since she'd be a few thousand years too early.
Relationships: Hades/ Oc, Hades/Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore)
Kudos: 5





	1. Was a loner, now alone

I didn't say a word. Not through the service. Not through the wake. Nor through the watery smiles and tearful condolences of the people who'd attended Jasper Midford's funeral. The old history professor had died at eighty four years young as he called it, quiet suddenly, at least to everyone else. What Grandpa had failed to tell me was that for months now, his heart had been giving him trouble. Maybe he hadn't wanted to worry me…Maybe he'd just been too stubborn to admit it even to himself. I had noticed him becoming less and less lively as the school year slowly faded from winter, to spring and slowly into summer; odd, since the old man was typically a spitfire. Then just a week after the spring semester at the local college had ended, his heart had finally given out. It almost didn't surprise me… He never let anything interrupt his class schedule, not even his own failing health.

I walked back toward his-my…house, tucking a loose lock of dark blonde hair that had been blown out from its place in my long braid because of the wind. In our small town, most people drove, but the cemetery was close enough to the house that I'd elected to walk. The trek gave me plenty of time to think without the pitying looks from Grandpa's colleagues and friends. The "He was such a good man"s and the "Don't worry Sera, it's going to get better"s. I was almost upset at the weather…how dare such a horrible day be beautiful? The sun was shining in a bright blue sky, warming the earth but the breeze, left over from spring kept the air just cool enough to be comfortable. Birds chirped and sang, and squirrels ran through the branches of the big oak trees that lined our brick laid driveway.

Almost all my life I'd lived with him in that big wooden house, just the two of us. Mom had passed when I was four from a car accident. In an attempt to miss hitting drunk driver, she'd accidentally swerved and hit one of the trees on the side of the back road they'd been on. The guy didn't even stop driving. I didn't know where my father was, and I didn't care to. He'd never been around, not that it really mattered. He knocked up my mother when she was twenty three, skipped town and never looked back. Good riddance. Grandpa…he was all I had.

I let out a shaky breath as I closed the big pine door behind me, the ever present key stuck in the interior lock, sticking as always. The dark house was illuminated only by the sun that poured through the big colonial windows. It seemed so empty without him here. Usually, when I got home there would be old music playing from his office, just off to the right of the entrance hall, his door closed if he was grading papers or tests or working on his latest book…examining the latest ancient text or artifact…on the phone debating with his peers from other colleges about the latest discoveries and theories…Now it was just unnerving silence. The house had never felt emptier despite everything in it.

I kicked off my black pumps at the door, putting my purse on the small side table. It had been a long day, and still it wasn't over. I still had many things I needed to do so that I could put this all behind me. Tomorrow I was going to go to campus to clean out his office; I figured that the sooner it was done the sooner I could mourn his loss in peace without the condescending condolences. I walked up the creaky old stairs, the slightly rough feeling of the worn-out oriental rug that ran down the length of the upstairs hallway a familiar comfort. I could vaguely remember running up and down it when I was little, playing pretend that I was like the heroes in the legends that Grandpa used as my bedtime stories.

The hall was lined in old photos from all over, with more faces than I could ever hope to name. Extended family, old and current colleges and friends of Grandpa's and so many locations that it was like looking through windows into other worlds. In each one was the big mustachioed smile that had been my comfort for the last twenty years. I pressed my lips into a thin line and screwing my eyes tightly shut, silently willing tears not to flow. I could cry when all of this was over.

The old hinges on my door at the end of the hall creaked as I opened it. It would be impossible to ever sneak out if I'd ever tried. Not that I did, I preferred my books than going out with other people my age. Frankly I found social events uncomfortable. I'd always been a loner in high school since no one had really shared my interests, save for a brief period in middle school when everyone had been obsessed with Percy Jackson books, something I never really got into. College was no different. I kept to myself and preferred to come home to my comfort zone. Of course, it didn't help that Half of the people I would have talked to in my classes knew I was related to our history professor. I was following in his footsteps, a history major with a literature minor that I admittedly had no idea what to do with.

My back popped as I stretched out on the firm mattress, closing my eyes one arm draped over them in exhaustion. My room was simple. Faded blue wallpaper was decorated with various pictures, both photographed and sketched, though the latter were admittedly not very high quality. I loved writing in my spare time, and I found that drawing out the places and people for my ideas made them easier to remember. When I first started, I'd hated them, having every intention to throw them away when I was done, but Grandpa had insisted that I keep them.

'All art comes from the soul. As you grow, your talents grow with you. You wouldn't throw away your old baby pictures, would you?' He'd say, taping them up despite my protests. It had eventually become habit and I began keeping anything I sketched that spoke to me. Looking back, he was right; he often was. The first batch were awful. But the more I did it the better I got, and my progress was on full display around the tiny computer desk that was up against one wall near the window overlooking the back yard.

Most of them were from his stories though. As a history professor, he had one for every mood I could have been in, both about real people and their myths, though he specialized in regions in Europe. These were the stories he had been most passionate about, and the ones that were cemented into my memory.

"Ya know hun, Dr. Midford was such a nice old man…Always had kids coming in and out during office hours. The poor things would go in lookin' so stressed and come out lookin' like he'd given them his exam key." Ms. Jordan was a tall thin lady on the later side of forty but the kind who dressed like she was a twenty something year old herself. She was one of the aid's in Hanson Hall, the history building where Grandpa's office was. She was the type of lady who I could have seen trying to be a "cool mom" if she had ever decided to have kids. She was nice enough, but she had the type of personality that made my skin crawl.

"Um…Yeah." Looking around at the fluorescent lit hallway of the third floor, I tapped my foot against the white tiles as she fitted the spare key into the lock an armload of folded cardboard boxes the only thing I had been able find in the dusty old attic to transport his things in. I'd spent most of the morning riffling through the desk in Grandpa's home office looking for his key. Unfortunately, the esteemed head of my college's history department was in no way, shape, or form organized and my digging only made things worse, so I was reduced to asking for help getting into his office. The University had assured me that I had plenty of time to get everything, but I had figured the sooner I got it done the sooner I wouldn't have to come back.

I was going to Athens in a week to escort some artifacts Grandpa had been meaning to take. Before I was born, Grandpa and my Granny had been doing a lot of work trying to reclaim privately owned artifacts and return them to museums. They'd go to for a couple of months to visit Europe every few summers or so. It was an opportunity for him to be immersed in the historical locations they had loved so much while also going some good. There was one time when I was maybe nine or ten when I had compared him to Indiana Jones and received a lecture about the inaccurate representation of archaeology in media that had put an end to any plans I may or may not have had to go running around with various treasures and whipping bad guys.

According to him, they had spent a lot of their savings to reclaim said items. It was why she worked until she died a couple of years before I was born and he had put off long as he did, though he would have denied it, claiming it was love of the job or that he 'couldn't stand sitting on his ass in front of a tv somewhere when there was work to be done.' It was just the kind of man that he was. He had always said that the history of a people, belongs to the people. He believed that no one person should own history because history was never about one person. The last round of artifacts they'd reclaimed never got back to Greece, though I never really knew why. I imagine that he would have taken everything back sooner if clearing customs was easier or if he was a decade or so younger.

I wouldn't be going for long. Just two weeks to make everything got to the right place. There wasn't much to get, two amphorae, a bronze statue of a bull, one sword that looked like a kopis with a curved, sickle-like blade made of a dark stone of some sort, and about a dozen obols. Just enough to make me nervous about not supervising. I was lost in thought, not paying much attention as I mechanically unfolded and filled each box with various papers, pictures, several mugs that had missing from the house and a dead succulent that looked like the last time it had been watered was the day he'd bought it. Neither of us had ever had much of a green thumb. My thinking was periodically interrupted by the irritating snapping of Ms. Jordan popping her chewing gum. The woman was just standing in the door, scrolling through an iPhone that, judging by the scratches on the case, had seen better days. I wished that she would leave or at least help but the trickster gods of old myth and legend were no help in modern America.

I folded up the last box, having periodically made trips down to put them in my old 2012 Honda. I was thankful that it was going to be the last trip because the one elevator in Hanson was notorious for getting stuck between floors, so I'd never made a habit of using them. It was exhausting, but two years of walking up and down the history building stairs kept my legs in nice enough shape to flatter my petite frame. At a whopping 5'2" I had never been considered tall so staying in decent shape was about all I could do in my comfort zone to not look like a fourteen-year-old. I hoisted the box up onto my hip, walking toward the door when the aid sighed, pulling me into what was, in my opinion, the most awkward hug of my young life.

"Ya know Sera…If you ever need someone to talk to, to go get pedis with, to go shopping with, I'm justa call away." She made an odd cooing 'ohm' sound, squeezing me tighter a moment, her thin frame jabbing my curved one painfully. The smell of hairspray on her shoulder length russet curls putting a bad taste in the back of my mouth.

"Thanks Ms. Jordan. I'll be sure to keep that in mind." I forced a smile, but she didn't seem to notice the strain. She beamed, closing and locking the door back behind us as we walked out into the empty hall.

Her heels clacked against the floor as we walked toward the stairs. Luckily for me, she was slowed down by having to grip the banister, carefully taking each step down as to not break an ankle. I could never understand her. Sure, she was nice, but our personalities were opposite. I had one pair of pumps for formal occasions and the rest of the time I was in boots, converse, flip flops or barefoot. I preferred comfort to style and function to fashion. I'd never been one for makeup, save for a little eyeliner and mascara to make my bluish gray eyes pop. Appearances had just never been that important to me and if living in a small town small midsized town had taught me anything it was that they were often skin deep.

I waved goodbye to her when I reached the ground floor, having to look up as she was still a floor and a half above me on the landings. Yeah, she was nice enough. But I simply couldn't see myself every being close to anyone but Grandpa. Now that he was gone… I managed to get to my car before the I lost it. My eyes stung, my forehead leaning forward on the steering wheel, surrounded by boxes, Thank God exams were over and all of the students had left for the summer. Before I was a loner, but now I was completely alone.


	2. Accidents Happen in Athens

I pulled my backpack over my shoulder as I stood at baggage claim in the Athens International Airport, my converse tapping against the white tiles, the murmur of the crowd echoing in my ears. The sound almost seemed muffled in my tired mind. Athens was eight hours ahead of my little city in north Alabama. My flight out of Atlanta International had left at three in the morning so I could arrive in Athens about midday to make my appointment at National Archaeological Museum. To get there in time I had to leave my house in the middle of the night and drive the three and a half hours. As I was a light sleeper, I was mostly awake for the entirety of the fifteen-hour flight. Simply put I was exhausted and running on the caffeine from an overpriced cup of crappy airport coffee…though that may have just been my opinion because I didn’t and never had liked coffee…

I almost missed the pair of back suitcases that held the items that had warranted my trip in the first place. The amphorae and bull statue were safely secured in the larger of the two cases, that luckily for me, was equipped to roll. The black bladed weapon was in a smaller case on its own that I would have to carry, and the obols were in a velvet pouch that I’d packed in my carry-on. I reluctantly threw away the remainder of my coffee to trade it for my bags, making my way toward the exit of the airport, weaving my way through the throngs of people that occupied it.

I had no intentions of staying long, hence the small personal bag I carried. It just didn’t feel right being here without Grandpa; we’d always talked about taking a trip here, but it had just never happened. One of the curators at the museum had been an old friend of his, and it was to him that I would be giving the artifacts. I’d never met Dr. Aetós but there were a few old pictures of him and my grandparents in Grandpa’s home office. He’d assured me that he was eager to help me identify and catalog the items that I was bringing to him.

The cab ride into the city was quick to pull my thoughts away from both my grief and my fatigue. The bright blue sky shone through the gaps in buildings, prompting me to put on my sunglasses. It was the most beautiful shade of blue I think I had ever seen, but the noon sun made my tired eyes sting. The closer to the museum we got, the more beautiful the city seemed to become. Trees lined the streets and pedestrians filled the sidewalks, shops, and restaurants. Every now and then, I caught a glimpse of the famous Parthenon, which towered over Athens from the acropolis.

The cab driver was a boy who, frankly I was surprised to see driving when I had first got into his cab. He seemed to be a few years younger than me, looking like your average teenager…for the most part. He had a mop of curly brown hair and had olive skin that he shared with many of the pedestrians was creased by a tiny dimple that seemed ever present every time I caught a glance of them in the rearview mirror. He spoke surprisingly good English, pointing out various landmarks to me as we cruised through the city, asking me questions that I would consider normal enough for someone with such a friendly personality.

“So, your first visit to Greece. First overseas too, yeah?”

“Mhm. It is. I suppose I just never had much of a reason before. I prefer my books.” I shrugged, grey meeting warm brown as my gaze flicked from the skyline to the mirror.

“You should travel more often. Builds character. Curbs boredom… Sure, it can hurt the wallet but there are plenty of ways to fix that.” He shot me a wink and I rolled my eyes with a tiny smile.

“Yeah well for now college. Seeing the world can wait. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Yeah, but you won’t be young forever. Travel, fili mou. Travel while you’re young enough to do it. To put it off is to deprive yourself of the gift of youth. You should…Ah… gamó…” He was cut off by the shrill chiming of his phone. He looked down at the idea and sighed. “Sorry, I have to take this. Do you mind if I drop you out here?”

“Oh, yeah that’s fine. How far is the museum from here?” nodding, I pulled out my wallet, pulling out thirty-five euros to pay the meter’s fare.

“Maybe a twenty-minute walk?” He pulled over to the side of the road as I paid my fare through the slot that separated the front and back seat.

“Awesome. Thank you.” I got out, pulling my bag over my shoulder and grabbing the smaller case from the seat next to me. My driver had popped the trunk, talking on the phone as he walked around to get my bigger case from the trunk. Smiling as I got out, I walked around to take my case from him, but as I was pulling it up on the curb, I wasn’t paying attention and a man jogging ran into me, knocking me and my bags to the hard ground.

“Periméno…Hey! Ti sto kaló kánis!?” The driver put down his phone for a moment, to yell out at the guy but the man just kept going, taking only a moment to call back over his shoulder.

“Ai gamisou!”

“Prósehe pós milás!” He scoffed, turning back to kneel next to where I was gathering the items that had fallen from my luggage. He muttered into his phone, “Tha se páro argótera…Sorry about that. Assholes are a worldwide hazard.”

“It’s fine. Really.” I pulled the smaller case to me, opening it for a moment to make sure the artifact hadn’t been damaged before relaching it quickly The boy’s brows were furrowed but he didn’t say a word as he returned a few of the items beyond my reach, my passport, phone, and a small folding map of Athens. I took them with a smile, and putting them back into my backpack, save for the map, and turned to check on the other case. I took more time with this one since its items were potentially fragile, but luckily, the interior padding had saved them from damage. With a sigh of relief, I re-latched the second suitcase, brushing off my hands and knees-now slightly skinned, as I stood. “Well. Thanks again, but I really have to go. Have to hustle so I won’t be late.”

“I can just call him back”

“No, it’s fine. The fresh air will wake me up. Worst part of travel is the sleep deprivation…” Shaking my head, I adjusted my grip on my bags.”

“Look, at least call me if you need a ride. It’s the least I can do to make up for your unpleasant welcome.” He got up and opened the front passenger door of the cab, grabbing a pen and napkin from his glove compartment and writing down his number.

I folded it, slipping it into my back pocket before turning with a wave. “Thanks again!”

I walked down the street, the cool breeze feeling wonderful. It curled my ponytail and made the fabric of my top sway, cooling me down despite the Mediterranean sun. As soon as I reached my hotel, I was going to be sure to apply sunscreen so that my pale skin would tan rather than burn. I glance back at the boy as I turned the corner to see him kneeling on the ground one arm reaching under the cab. Probably dropped his phone when he was helping me gather my things.

I had been walking for a while, trying to keep up with my progress on my map, (though I probably would have had better luck with my phone’s GPS, I was desperately trying to preserve the old failing battery.) and unfortunately, I had a God-awful sense of direction. I ultimately ended up having to catch yet another taxi to the museum, barely making it in time for my appointment with Dr. Aetós. Luckily, I didn’t have to wander for long among the ancient relics. I managed to find a guide who had just finished with a school tour and she was nice enough to go find him. If I had been there for any other reason I would have spent hours in the history soaked halls.

“Ah, Sekora Midford. On behalf of the museum, welcome to Greece.” Dr. Aetós was much younger than I had expected. I thought I’d be meeting with someone near Grandpa’s age, but he didn’t look a day over fifty…Maybe younger. He was sporting a neatly trimmed peppered beard that matched his hair, also neatly trimmed but long enough to curl under his ears. Blue eyes were accented by crows’ feet and faint lines appeared on sun kissed skin around a white grin as he smiled, arms spread wide in greeting. He wore a gray suit that looked like it was tailored especially for him and suddenly, I felt very subconscious in my jean shorts and simple graphic tank top. “You look just like Grace. Your grandmother was such a fiery woman. Always kept Jasper and I in line and grounded when we were working together.”

“Thank you. I’m happy to be here. Please forgive me if I’m a little out of it. I’ve been awake for two days straight now.” Returning his grin, I traded the case from one hand to the other, extending mine to shake his.

“Well, you’re in the old world now. Maybe you’ll get lucky and Morpheus will choose to bless you.”

“If only.” Laughing, I followed him though the museum and into a small office with his name carved into the plaque. The office reminded me of grandpa’s, completely unorganized to anyone who wasn’t responsible for the mess. He did, however, have a table cleared off, a bright lamp shining down onto the white surface.

The amphorae were part of a set from the Greek classical period and were decorated with images of ancient athletes. The statue of the bull was supposedly Minoan and was beautifully decorated with still visible details despite its age. But the curved weapon made my heart stop…Mostly because when I opened the case it was nowhere to be found. A cold chill shook my spine and I felt my knees quake me. It was there earlier…I’d come straight here from the airport…The only time when it could have fallen out was when…

I grabbed my backpack, throwing it over my shoulder sprinting out of the office and down the corridor that led toward the museums exit, pulling my phone out of my pocket with the cab driver’s number, time seemingly stretching forever as I willed my phone to turn on faster, suddenly regretting the decision to put off replacing it sooner.

Dr. Aetós barged into the hall from his office, calling out to me as I fled, “Miss Midford! Where are you going?”

I didn’t respond, bursting out of the doors of the museum and sprinting down the marble steps drawing the eyes of several patrons and passersby. This had to be a misunderstanding. There was no way that the nice boy had robbed me. It had taken half an hour to get from the airport to the inner city and in that time, he hadn’t raised any red flags. I may have been a loner, but I prided myself on being a good judge of character. He had seemed perfectly nice…Still I was in a foreign country and didn’t know him at all. In busy cities like this, especially the ones who attracted international tourists, con artists and thieves weren’t uncommon.

God, I was in a foreign country, by myself. He could have been a serial killer and I may have never known…Was calling this stranger really worth an old weapon? Yes…Grandpa would have wanted it in the museum, not in the hands of some thief. It was everything that he stood for. There was no way I could just let the boy get away with it if he had stolen it. My phone’s screen lit up with its lock screen and I quickly opened it, putting in the digits that I’d been given. As it rung, I thought quickly about what I could say to get him to come back. If he was guilty and I let on that I knew, there was no way I’d ever see him nor the artifact again. They would disappear into the crowded city and the kopis would probably be fenced and sold to the highest bidder. I couldn’t let that happen.

“Ya su.”

“Hi, it’s me…I’m done at the museum and I was wondering if you could give me a ride to my hotel?” I clenched my fist, silently willing my voice not to shake.

“Ah, of course. I’m on my way. Ta léme sýntoma.”

I paced the sidewalk as I waited, though I didn’t have to wait for very long. A cab pulled up next to the curb, passenger side window rolled down, a familiar smiling face across the car. With a tiny smile, I climbed into the back seat, telling the youth the address for the hotel I was supposed to stay in. Once again, he started up pleasant conversation with me and I tried not to appear too distracted as I responded, subtly glancing around the cab, desperate to find any clue.

It came when we were cut off. We’d been driving through an intersection when another car pulled out suddenly in front of us. The boy slammed on the breaks, sending me tumbling into the back of the front seat with a gasp, my heart racing at the near accident. He rolled down his window, yelling something in Greek at the reckless driver angrily and honking the cab’s horn in one long continuous tone, but I wasn’t paying attention. I was laser focused because from my new, semi awkward position, I could just barely spot a curved black blade peaking out from under the passenger seat.


End file.
